My Life in Truth
by PinkieShy47
Summary: An old woman tells her apprentice of her life - the achievements, and the secrets she's kept for decades. (Rated T, could become M later on)


The old woman huddled by the fire, hands out in front of her – the gesture something akin to a prayer. She licked her lips and smiled as her apprentice draped her shoulders with a soft yellow blanket.

"You're nearly done with your training, my dear," she managed through labored breaths.

"I have so much left to learn, Madam. I'm – I'm not sure that I could ever live up to your name…" She tucked her legs under her and held close the small wooden cup of steaming broth. She took a deep sip from it and looked down at the floor. "You're so well known, Sister, through all of the Empire. More admired even than the Cybils."

"You give more credit than my actions are due, my dear." A mischievous smile stretched over the lines of her aged face, eyes unfocused as if watching memories parade through her vision.

"Arch Mage of the College of Winterhold, user of The Voice, Harbinger of the Companions… Priestess of Dibella… a-and…"

"…The only Dragonborn in an age…"

"Your feats are laid out before you, Sister, and yet you say you did nothing? That you aren't due the honors bestowed upon you? Sister, I think it's clear-"

"People like only to make mention of the good I did, my dear. They like to ignore the other side of my life. The darker era. What things that brought me to Skyrim. How I arrived, how my story started. It wasn't always this peaceful, you know." She looked at the girl, "I am old, and much of my story has gone untold. Shall I share it with you? Will you listen to the ramblings of an old woman?"

Her eyes lit up and the young woman edged closer to her teacher, brushed back her hair and nodded eagerly, "oh yes, Sister. It would be my honor!"

The old woman stood and shuffled over to her bed. It was small, made for only one person, with delicate carvings on the wooden frame. Lilies, vines, and sacred verses inlaid in the wood, a green covering. She huffed and placed a hand on the headboard straightening a little. Her gray hair fell around her shoulders, and the years and life she lived her less obvious as she stood straight.

"You will not like all that you hear," she warned.

"I want to know."

"You must tell no one else."

"You have my word, sister."

The old woman pulled back the covers of her bed and sat on the corner. She began to work off the slippers that covered her feet and turned her body as her apprentice helped her into a comfortable position.

She sighed and nodded, "I came to Skyrim to seek my fortune. It was the height of the Stormcloak Rebellion, and I was attempting to cross the border from Cyrodiil. I may have had a few bottles of Skooma on my person and would rather the Imperials not have known it was there." She grinned, "Unfortunately for me, the patrols were on alert and I was found…"

I awoke in a carriage full of strange men. I knew little of the political climate of Skyrim in those days, and had no idea why I had been detained. In Cyrodiil the amount of Skooma I carried would simply have been confiscated, and I would have been let on my way.

There were three other men in the carriage – one gagged and wearing the fine clothes of the nobility, one in the same tattered rags I was in, and one in Stormcloak uniform. He was blond, a braid hung down the side of his face, and he had kind eyes. He spoke to the other men, tried to make idle chat, to make the inevitability of our end feel a little further off.

We rode into Helgen that day, and the callousness of the Empire had sentenced me to death – beheading – rather than imprisonment.

"To hell with lists," the commander had said when questioned about my fate, "send her to the block!"

My head was laid in the chopping block; I was to see my end. I thought back to my mother, my father, both begging me to stay with them in Cyrodiil. But… I knew I could make my fortune here, in Skyrim, I knew that I could send Septims home to help my family, and I knew that I could make their lives better – I watched the headsman raise his axe.

And then, for the first time, I saw him. Alduin. I was terrified, frozen with fear. I would surely have died if another of the prisoners hadn't pulled me to my feet. I looked around, buildings burning, children screaming and crying as the dragon passed over the city again, spewing fire from his huge mouth. Mother's clutched their babes to their breasts, screaming with the infants as they ran seemingly in circles.

Imperial walls had always made me feel so safe. But then, for the first time, they were a prison all their own. We were like cattle lined up for slaughter. We had no escape.

The man grabbed my hand, "you must come with me," he shouted above the din," we can try and find a way to escape this!" He pulled me toward a guard's tower in the center of the city, "we can clear our heads for a moment in there!"

We dove into the tower just as the dragon spewed fire where we had been standing.

Jarl Ulfric rubbed his wrists, the few others of his legion surrounded him, having found a weapons store they guarded their leader.

"Ralof," the Jarl said, clapping a hand on the shoulder of the man who'd saved me, "you have served me well. Fly this place, spread word that I am not yet dead. Let the Imperial dogs know they have not won this yet. Not this quickly. Not this easily."

Ralof bowed as Ulfric grabbed a sword and his guards followed him out into the battle again. Through the smoke and almost unbreathable air, he'd be able to make his escape. Ralof and I turned to follow, but Imperial soldiers had already started toward the door.

We ran up the twisting stair case, "We will have to fight," Ralof told me.

"I have no weapon," I said, "and my hands are bound." I began to shake. I had escaped death only to find it again just moments later.

Then, as if the Divines themselves were watching me, the wall exploded in, the dragon breathed his fire breath into the tower. Ralof and I pressed our bodies against the wall, staying clear of the dragon, though unable to breath from the life-sapping heat. The guards screamed as the flames licked at their bodies, and they suffocated, burning to ashes. The dragon took to flight, rising into the air

I looked down over the buildings below us, then to my companion, "we can make it," I told Ralof, pointing toward the inn below us.

"We will have to jump!" I nodded. Again, he grabbed my hand and we leapt from the tower into the burning inn below. We landed and pain shot through my legs and up my back. I screamed and stood more slowly than I should have. Ralof yanked me to my feet, and started running again, "we make for the Keep, we will find a way out, I swear it."

We made it to the Keep. Sweat covered my face, ran down my chest, and made my ragged clothes stick to my frame. I felt soot on my face, could smell fire all around me. The bodies of slain Stormcloak soldiers littered the ground. Ralof screamed in frustration and anger, said soft prayers over the bodies of his fallen companions.

"We should take what we need from their bodies," he whispered, "It will honor their memories for their weapons and armor to be used once more." He inhaled a shaky breath and tossed me a sword, "I hope you can use that, girl, you'll need it on the road out of this place…"

I gave the sword a few swings. It felt good in my hand, well made of simple materials. Carefully, I undressed one of the bodies. Leather and cloth armor, well made, almost new. It would protect far more than the rags I'd been given when the Imperials had captured me. As I changed out of my rags and into the armor more than once I saw Ralof let his eyes roam over my body. My cheeks flushed and looked away.

Dressed, I walked to him, "Lilith," I said softly.

"What?"

"My name. It's Lilith. We've been through this much together; I thought you should know my name."

He smiled at me, kind eyes flashing, "we're not through this yet, Lilith, let's go."

We made our way through a maze of caves… the air was stale but cool. I could finally breathe.

We found a stream of cool fresh water. I stopped for a moment to drink deeply and wipe the soot from my face and arms, to cool my burning body.

"We need to keep moving, Lilith, this way," Ralof called, "we don't know where the Imperials may be."

I looked up at him, feeling human for the first time since this had all begun, "a moment won't be the difference between life and death, Ralof." I smiled, drank again from the stream and stood.

We spent hours winding through the caves, seeking for a way out. I began to lose hope. Perhaps the only way out was behind us. What if the only escape had been the collapsed tunnel we'd run from hours before?

"Look," Ralof said, grabbing my arm, "there must be a way out," he crouched, whispering, "there is a bear ahead, how else could it have gotten in here?"

I swallowed.

"I figure we can either sneak past her or… or we will have to fight… I leave the decision to you."

"I'm too tired to fight," I shook my head slowly; "I need rest, not more excitement. I say we sneak past her. For the first time in hours, Ralof, I have hope we will find a way out of this."

Perhaps another hour passed that we were in the caves. The afternoon sun was blinding when we finally stumbled out. Ralof looked around him, getting his barring, "we're not far from Riverwood," he said, "my sister owns the saw mill there… I'm sure she'll offer us some food and shelter."

"You've been so kind," I said softly, brushing my red hair out of my face, tucking it behind an ear, "why?"

"You didn't deserve any of this. The Imperials had no right to close your fate the way they did, Lilith. You were no thief, no rebel… you have no place at a headsman's block." He stopped and looked into my eyes then, "you are… you are lovely, even covered in ashes and blood, you are lovely."

I could feel my cheeks turn scarlet and I started back down the road, eyes on the path at my feet, "I am … I am no such thing, Ralof."

He touched my arm and smiled, "I see beauty in you."

My cheeks flushed again and pulled out of his grasp, "perhaps on a different day I would believe that. But now, I am no beauty."

We walked on, the spring air was crisp, and the forest was full of game and birds. It was nothing like the countryside in Cyrodiil. The forests were thicker, and wildflowers grew in thick patches, butterflies and moths fed on them, lingering on the blooms. The sun played through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. It was beautiful.

The village of Riverwood was picturesque. Set on the banks of a babbling river, the small outpost had grown around a saw mill that Ralof's family owned. A blacksmith stood at his forge, heating an axe in the coals, he gave a glaring look at us as we passed and went back about his work.

We walked through the small town; the people took little notice of our presence.

"We will find Gurder, my sister, and tell her of the attack. Someone will need to tell the Jarl in Whiterun, but we need some time to recuperate from the attack. Healing potions may keep us alive, but there's nothing like a warm bed to renew our bodies travels.

Gerdur and her husband Hod were kind people. "We will help in any way we can," she said, "stay the night in our home, that whatever supplies you need."

"Thank you," I said, taking her hand, "this means so much to me. I will tell the Jarl what has happened here, I swear it."

Gerdur handed me a key to her home, "Frodnar, come here my child," the boy ran to his mother, "take our new friend here to our house. See she finds everything she needs."

"Yes, Ma'ma."

I followed the little boy into the home. It was cozy, and felt like a place full of love. I placed my things gently on the table next to the door and smiled at Frodnar, "Thank you."

"Mmhmm… so… did you kill the dragon?"

"Oh, I did try!" I grinned at the boy, "But, he got the best of me."

"Was it scary?"

"Oh yes! But I'm sure you would have been very brave."

"I'd have slayed the dragon," Frodnar said, his stance wide, fists on his hips, "I'm going to be a soldier some day, just like my Uncle Ralof. I'm going to fight those Imperials, kill 'em all!"

"Not all Imperials are bad, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"I was born in the Imperial City," I winked at him, "But I'm not bad, am I?"

He looked unsure for a moment, then folded his arms over his chest, "Well, if Uncle Ralof trusts you I guess you're pretty okay. But don't try any funny business!"

I drew a cross over my chest, "Swear."

"Well, okay then. I've gotta go… Papa said I need to start helping him chop firewood." The boy frowned, lingered for a moment, and then finally, slowly, opened the door and made his way back to the mill.

Alone for the first time in ages, I ate, drank deeply of their wine, and collapsed into the bed. Still fully dressed, covered in grime, I slept. I didn't dream that night. But neither did I rest. I knew, somehow, that things were going to be much different starting now. Maybe I should have stayed with my parents after all…


End file.
